Menage
by Soxil
Summary: Pansy Parkinson has a choice to make - well, several. A story about coming into your own, making mistakes, and taking risks. Set from the perspectives of Pansy (chapters 1-2), Draco (chapters 3-4), and Blaise (chapters 5-6). Strong language and explicit sexual content.
1. Clarity

Starting a new story :) Hoping to bang this out over the next few days so keep an eye out! Expecting to only have 6 chapters. As always your reviews are welcome and so incredibly helpful. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: The characters belong to JK Rowling and the Harry Potter universe.

* * *

Shit the tile was cold.

Pansy Parkinson looked over her shoulder at the meager bath towel on the floor and dragged it to her. She pulled it between the base of the toilet and her body, arching her herself off the cold bathroom floor and moving the towel underneath.

The thing was still damp from Daphne's morning shower.

Nothing could be perfect. Pansy breathed heavily through her nose and ripped the towel out from under her, hurling it at the locked door before her. Her bare body reconnected with the cold tile and she felt her frustration fester.

The bathroom was too small. She backtracked – the bathroom was too small _to lie down in_ but it was a fine size for doing other bathroom-like things. Maybe this wasn't the best room to give this a go.

She sat up, giving her shoulders and back some relief from the cold floor and started to put her shirt back on. Why she had gotten completely nude she still didn't understand – it wasn't like she was showing off for anyone. There was absolutely no reason why she needed to be naked. And it was cold. She should be in a parka or something. Fucking castle and its shitty insulation.

She stood up, naked from the hips down with only a faded t-shirt to cover her rather small chest.

"There's nothing wrong with my chest," she growled to herself, but she said it halfheartedly. She'd give a small fortune to make these things bigger, a small _fortune_.

"Damn it all to hell", she whispered to herself as she collected her remaining clothing from the top of the toilet. As she tugged on her knickers and yanked on her jeans, she caught her reflection in the mirror. She began taking inventory:

Small tits – check

Large nose – check

Possibly larger zit on said large nose – check check check

She ran her hands through her matted blond hair and then ran a finger under each one of her eyelids trying to erase yesterday's smudged mascara. Looking red and blotchy – the classic Parkinson look, she thought – she turned around and unlocked the door to the 6th year Slytherine girl's dormitory. Only Daphne was awake at this early hour and had already made her bed and left. The other three were still sleeping in their beds, snug under the fluffy duvets. She looked towards her bed and felt the inviting tug of warmth and softness. She was tempted but knew sleep was impossible now that she was up. She needed fresh air and to come up with a new plan to quell her frustrations.

She grabbed her trainers by her trunk instead and pulled her coat off the hook by the door. Closing the door – rather loudly, she realized with a grimace – she made her way down the damp hallway (fucking castle) and into the rather quiet common room. A few students were already out and about but none that Pansy recognized. She hurried to her favorite chair and sat down to slip on her trainers.

She smelled him before he spoke.

"Pans – we need to talk."

"Can't talk Draco, the world is ending and I've got to save it." He snorted at her. She looked up from tying her left shoe and saw him across the room making his way towards her. He was freshly showered. She could still smell his shampoo. It wasn't a bad smell.

"Well then we're all fucked," he said with a grin. "Are you heading down to breakfast?"

"No. I'll be there in a bit." She rose and made her way to the dungeon's gate. The smell of his shampoo grew stronger as she felt his hand slip by her and push open the gate.

"I'll walk out with you," he said softly. Too softly. Merlin, he was going to apologize. "Listen Pans, about last night," he began.

"Don't worry about it," she said coolly.

He glanced over to her, in an attempt to be subtle. But she refused to show him anything. She wasn't in the mood for a lengthy chat and Draco tended to soliloquize once he got going. The last thing she wanted to discuss were the sordid details of last night's "misunderstanding".

"I'm not _worried_ about it, I just wanted to make sure we're all on the same page. Listen, last night was a –"

"It was my mistake, Draco. I must not have told Blaise. I'm sorry." She tried to look as apologetic as possible hoping her apology would end the conversation. Thank Merlin the first tunnel out of the castle was fast approaching. Thinking about last night only further frustrated her – in more than one way.

"What? Why are you apologizing? Listen, I don't know what Blaise was thinking when he –"

"Really Draco, it was my fault. Don't worry about it."

"I'm not _worried_ about it. Pansy, for Merlin's sake slow the fuck down!" He grabbed her arm just as she was preparing to take a sharp right towards the northeast courtyard. He yanked her back to face him. She realized then that she was in for a monologue. He wasn't going to let it go until he let it all out. She sighed and then crossed her arms thankful that they were alone in the corridor.

"Sorry. What did you want to say?" She all but whispered. Best to let him feel in control. It always worked out better that way.

"I just, I just wanted to _talk_. For a moment. Do you have a moment? Whatever you have to do can wait." He didn't wait for her to reply – classic Draco Malfoy. Merlin forbid a dialog involve two people. "Listen you left so quickly last night that I didn't get a chance to explain. Blaise was drinking earlier and he just wasn't thinking proper when he came in…" Her eyes glazed over. She stopped listening to what he was saying in an attempt to squander the memory of last night.

She looked up into his grey eyes and let the sound of his voice wash over her. He over enunciated his t's and p's. She loved the way he said her name.

Pansy.

 _P_ ansy.

She shivered involuntarily remembering him breathily saying her name last night as she tugged affectionately on his ear – his weak spot. A part of her applauded her womanly wiles. The other part was dragged back to reality when Draco placed both his hands on her shoulders.

"…he's an ass. I should have locked the door. It won't happen again." He looked down at her, waiting for her reply. She started to open her mouth when he cut her off, "anyways, I'll see you at breakfast. Maybe we can try again later?" Typical. He leaned down and pressed his lips against hers. She melted a little at his kiss. Focus Pansy, focus.

He pulled back, a grin on his smug face. He knew what he did to her. Bastard.

"Your tits look great in that shirt, by the way," he winked and turned around, walking towards the Great Hall. She looked down, annoyed that her nipples were hard under the thin cotton.

"It's cold out here!" she yelled to his back.

"I'm sure that's it," he yelled back, laughing. She could practically hear the smirk in his voice. Bastard.

Pansy resumed walking towards the northeast courtyard, flustered and betrayed by her own body. Draco had effectively redirected her frustrations. Figure he would apologize for not finishing what he had set out to do. Merlin forbid he apologize for not listening to her. She clenched her fists to her side in annoyance and to fight off the cold.

Shit.

She forgot her coat.

She turned around and started a brisk walk back towards the Slytherine dormitories. She blamed Draco, the bastard. Where did he get off kissing girls and talking about their tits in public? She knew last night had been a mistake. Thank Merlin Blaise interrupted them before it got out of hand.

But maybe she wanted it to get out of hand?

She mentally kicked herself, willing that traitorous thought out of her head. Fooling around was one thing, but she wasn't going to go fuck Draco bloody Malfoy just because he wanted to get off in a warm body. He was a bastard. She had known that since they were little when he broke all of her dolls.

She pulled open the dungeon's gate only to get a face full of clothing and the smell of last night's liquor. Startled, she backed up and brushed the short blond locks out of her face.

"Sorry Pansy! You alright?" Blaise stammered out of the common room, bending down slightly to make eye contact with her. The boy was a bloody giant.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. You just bloody spooked me." She made to move past him and go into the common room when his deep voice caught her attention.

"Good, good. Listen Pans, about last night –" Bloody hell, what was in the water this morning? Was everyone trying to make her cringe? Did she just have a giant sign around her neck saying "Please apologize to me, I'd like to continue reliving the sheer embarrassment that was last night and your kind, simple words will help me accomplish that"?

"Blaise, don't. It's fine. I'm fine. We're fine. You don't have to worry about anything." She made to move past him again but his hand found a way to her bare arm and he softly pulled her back.

"It's not fine. I feel like a bloody wanker. I can barely even remember how I got back last night. Theo's a real tosser – I swear I never thought to get that pissed." He looked down at her, those big brown eyes pleading with her to understand.

Her breath caught and she felt a familiar pull. How did he do that to her?

"It's fine. _Really_ Blaise. _I'm_ fine." She almost sighed when she saw a small smile break on his dark face. Merlin she loved that smile.

"I'm still sorry. I knew you guys had the room and – I don't know Pans, I was just too pissed to care. I hope I didn't make a complete fool out of you?" She smiled up at him. He was sweet.

"You did but it's not like you saw anything new." He blushed. He blushed! She couldn't contain the smile that broke her face. It was like they were kids again and he had brought her back a bouquet of wild flowers from his mother's garden. She wanted to stay mad at him – and boy was she – but he had this nasty habit of making her completely forget any negative feelings about him.

"Yeah well, like I said, I can't really remember much. It won't happen again. Listen are you going down to breakfast? I can wait for you if you need to grab a coat or something."

"No, you go ahead. I'll be down in a bit. Draco's already there." Blaise nodded, the smile on his face quickly gone. She knew he must be embarrassed about facing Draco but there was something else there too. Worry tickled the back of Pansy's neck.

"Sounds good. I'll see you soon. Oh and Pansy?" he caught her attention again as she made her way into the common room.

"Yeah?" She made room for a couple of younger Slytherines to move past her as they exited the common room.

"Your tits look great in that shirt," he grinned and hurried down the hall, the students near him snickering and looking her up and down.

Great.

Bastards, all of them bastards. Absolutely no respect for the female body or for her! She slammed the dungeon gate shut, startling a few students in the common room.

"What? Did I disturb your bloody quiet?" she all but yelled. She strode towards the 6th year dormitories and burst into the first door on the left. The others were already gone. Thank Merlin.

She made her way into the bathroom and shut the door – loudly. She clicked the lock and then turned to face her reflection.

"Get your shit together, Pansy," she hissed. She turned away from the mirror and leaned back on the vanity. She folded her arms and noticed that once again her nipples had created strikingly obvious tents out of her shirt. She growled with frustration and wrestled out of the top, throwing it to the ground.

Satisfied, she turned back to face the mirror. The redness had faded from under her eyes and her hair had settled into its usual mess. She focused on her eyes. Starring at herself had an odd way of calming her down. She remembered her mother doing it when she was little. She stared back at the blue eyes of her reflection and slowly regained her normal breathing.

Slowly she unbuttoned the top of her jeans. She pulled them down, along with her knickers, over her laced up trainers. She considered taking off her shoes but was quickly distracted with other thoughts when she saw the bruise on her hip.

Her mind raced back to last night.

It was dark in the room and Draco was all hands. She could remember his mouth on her neck, kissing and sucking sweetly down to her exposed chest. She was self-conscious about her chest but Draco never said anything when they were like this. For a moment she thought maybe he liked her small chest. He nipped the side of her left tit and she hissed.

"Watch is Malfoy. I'm not a chew toy." He laughed at her and quickly silenced her with a rather wet kiss. She loved his kisses. He was always so desperate in those moments – as if it were never going to happen again.

Blaise was different.

He took his time.

"Merlin Pans, you taste amazing," he rasped into her ear. Her breath hitched and he fumbled with what was left of his trousers. She could feel how much he wanted her. _Needed_ her. She wanted him too. Merlin how she wanted him. But she wasn't ready. Not yet at least.

Pansy snapped back to the present and pushed away the thoughts from last night. She stared at her reflection and gingerly pushed against the bruise, just to savor the dull pain it created. She easily fell back in to the memory of last night.

His tongue was insider her, claiming her as his. Her tongue rolled over his, pleased to hear him groan from the contact and press his body more fully on to hers. Her hands were tangled in his white gold hair and her legs hugged his hips. Even through her delicate knickers and his briefs she could feel how badly they both wanted this.

She screamed at herself to stop. That it wasn't worth it. That she wasn't ready for it. She pushed him and he broke their kiss, confused as to why she was making him stop.

"Slow down Draco, I don't –"

"Pansy just let go," he kissed her desperately and she was lost again.

A loud noise from outside the dorm momentarily distracted them. The noise grew and suddenly a hulking giant barged into the room. She heard Theo's voice first.

"Blaise stop! It's not worth it man! Draco I'm real sorry, he's too pissed." Theo had the decency to cover his eyes as he stood in the doorway, yelling at the three in the room.

Blaise reeked of liquor and crashed into the side of Draco's bed, the two of them still in a tangle of limbs.

"Blaise, what the fuck?" yelled Draco. Blaise, suddenly aware of where he was and the sight before him, charged at Draco. They rolled off the bed and Pansy screamed.

"What are you doing?" she yelled down at the two idiots wrestling on the floor.

"Stay away from her!" slurred Blaise as he attempted to punch Draco in the face. He missed by an embarrassing distance. Draco pushed him off and kicked him in the gut. Blaise grunted, grabbing frantically at Draco's feet and pulling him down hard.

Pansy rushed to pull her t-shirt on and jumped off the bed, prepared to rip the two idiots off of each other. As she moved towards Draco, who was lying on his back and attempting to kick Blaise away, Blaise shifted his weight and pushed Pansy against the bed post. She made contact with her hip and head, slumping to the floor, already aware that bruises would form.

As if sensing that she was hurt, both Blaise and Draco stopped fighting and rushed to her side (mind you, Blaise more like crawled). Theo was already gone from the doorway and had at least had the good sense to close the door.

"Pans are you alright?" Draco got to her first.

"I'm fine, I'm fine." Satisfied with her answer, Draco turned back to Blaise in time to see a massive fist crash down on his chest. The blond let out a grunt and Blaise generally looked pleased with his punch (though he was aiming for the face). "Cut it out, both of you!" Pansy yelled. The two boys stopped and stared at her.

She struggled to get up, her feet under Blaise's massive size, and grabbed her jeans from the spot where Draco had peeled them off. She made her way over to the door, looking back at them, a mess on the floor.

"You're both idiots!" At a loss for what else to say, she quickly made her leave and went back to her room across the hall.

Pansy looked back at her reflection in the mirror. Wankers. Both of them were wankers. The way she saw it, they both deserved a good punch in the gut. Part of her was pissed at Blaise – he knew that she was with Draco that night and yet he still barged in on them and made a whole masculine mess of things. And part of her was pissed at Draco – he was well aware that she didn't want to sleep with him and yet he continued to push her and escalate every encounter they had had recently. Both of them were brutes!

Frustrated again, she starred back at her blue eyes. Breathe Pansy, breathe.

Their apologies were laughable. Draco was only sorry they'd been interrupted. And Blaise was sorry he'd acted like an idiot in front of Draco. Neither of them cared about what Pansy wanted. Neither of them cared that she was confused and struggling to decide what her heart and mind wanted. They just wanted release.

"Well fuck them," she whispered to herself. They could wait. She wasn't going to be some slag for them to just pass around to get their fix. They could earn it. They could prove they _deserved_ it. Their odd love triangle had lasted too long and the innocence of their initial agreement had long since faded. She didn't need either them. Not when they were being like this. Not when they weren't listening to her.

And she didn't need them.

She looked down at the cold bathroom floor with sudden clarity.

She didn't need them. She could be in charge of her own pleasure. She could go at her own pace.

She lay down, for a second time that cold October morning, on the bathroom tiles. The cold didn't bother her as much – she had a job to do.

Now she just needed to figure out how to do it. But she had all morning. And Pansy, if anything, was not one to give up on herself.


	2. Control

Chapter 2 in Pansy's perspective again. Tackling Draco next :) Reviews are welcome! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: The characters belong to JK Rowling and the Harry Potter universe.

* * *

This was getting her nowhere.

She felt like a failure. How was she supposed to assert her sexuality to Draco and Blaise when she couldn't even do it in private?

She lay on the cold bathroom floor, her hand sore and wrist cramping from trying to get herself off. It must have been 30 minutes that she had been locked in the bathroom. Someone was going to think she had died in here at some point.

But she wasn't giving up. She couldn't. Her frustration was both sexual and rational: she needed to feel in control of her body, her pleasure. She'd thought for too long that a man would give her the pleasure she deserved and so longed for. A pleasure she had thought about for probably much longer than healthy for a girl of only 16 years.

But so far men just took. They didn't listen to her. They didn't care about what she needed.

So she didn't need them. She could do this on her own.

A new surge of determination swelled in her belly and she closed her eyes one more time and willed her body to relax.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Rise up.

Fall down.

She let her limbs relax against the now warm tile beneath her. She wiggled her toes and fingers, allowing the excess energy to escape.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Rise up.

Fall down.

This was all new to her. She didn't know how to be on her own like this. It felt right but it was different. No one was there to guide her or tell her what to do. To control her, she thought.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Rise up.

Fall down.

Focusing on her breath she felt the world slowly slip away. She could feel her body but was more aware of her mind and her breath. She felt small, warm, safe.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Rise up.

Fall down.

She lifted up her hand – her arm felt heavier than she remembered – and placed it at the crevice between her belly and her thighs. Heat. She felt her own heat.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Rise up.

Fall down.

Ever so slowly she moved her middle finger further into the folds feeling more heat and moisture. She wasn't sure where she was supposed to look so she just went off of feeling. A familiar sense of panic started to rise. She couldn't find it on her own – maybe she needed a man to guide her?

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Rise up.

Fall down.

No. She could do this. She concentrated on just feeling. Waiting for that moment when her body would spark alive and she would know she was on her way. Seconds went by. It felt like years.

And then she felt it.

It was almost painful how she came across it. She backed off, just slightly – avoiding it head on. With her eyes closed she pictured a mountain. She couldn't summit it but taking the path around it would get her where she needed to go. She began to move her finger in small circles, careful to avoid direct pressure.

The pain quickly faded and dull pleasure started to warm her body. She started to move a little faster. Her breath suddenly transitioning from her nose to her mouth.

In an attempt to get there faster (ever the impatient one) she tried to conjure images that would excite her.

Draco.

She pictured his grey eyes – they were the first thing she always saw. Deep, dark, desperate for something she couldn't put her finger on. Her thoughts quickly jumped to last night. She remembered his touch, the weight of his body on hers, the way he breathily said her name.

But nothing happened. If anything her spiral of pleasure had slowed as if she had distracted herself with the erotic images in her head. She brushed Draco aside.

Blaise.

His body wrapped around her. He was so much bigger than her – a giant in her eyes. But so gentle. She remembered earlier that week when he had kissed her down her side with slow, tantalizing kisses. The cool air whipping at the wet imprints of the kisses left behind.

But nothing happened. She felt further away from her impending climax and quickly shook the images of Blaise from her mind.

For a moment she considered thinking about some celebrity or some childhood crush but her racing mind just distracted her more from the pleasure that had been there only a moment ago.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Rise up.

Fall down.

She didn't need images. She was closer when she was focused on her own body, not someone else's. So she focused. She felt her chest move with each breath and imagined circling that mountain again.

The pleasure began to rise. It came in waves now, no longer a dull feeling in the background.

She rode out the waves. She imaged the ocean pulling away from the sand and then rushing to greet it again. She pictured the wind tickling the water, encouraging it forward.

A small moan escaped her. She hadn't even realized it until her mouth was open and dry with anticipation.

Then she felt it coming on. It was as if it started in her back and was fighting to rise up. She imaged her finger was creating a spiral, working its way down to the pleasure to help it rise up.

"I'm going to come. Come. Come," she heard herself whisper into the still air.

Her body responded to her voice, her demand.

It built quickly. Her back arched as if in spasm and she dropped her mouth open even wider. Her fingers working furiously though her mind begged them to stop. The pleasure wouldn't let her. She had to bring it out. She would burst if she didn't.

She came with a rush and a simple "ahh" escaped her. She slowly melted back into the floor.

A moment went by, her fingers still perched precariously over her heat but careful not to touch.

She laughed. Suddenly her laughing was uncontrollable.

"I did it," she whispered, throwing her arms over her head in pure bliss. They hit the edge of a tub with a thud.

"Son of a – " she moaned, cradling her now throbbing wrists. She laughed through the pain, finding her abandon of earlier the stuff of great comedies. And there she lay, on the bathroom of her dormitory, laughing, cradling what could easily be two broken wrists (unlikely), and swimming in pure womanly bliss.

She did it. She was in control.

* * *

Pansy quickly ran the mascara brush through her eyelashes, careful not to allow for smudges. Her face glowed a healthy pink. She smirked, knowing where the pink had come from. Twenty minutes and _three_ orgasms later, Pansy made her way down to the Great Hall to catch the last few moments of breakfast.

To say that she felt renewed was an understatement. She felt on top of the world, as if she had just gained entrance to the most exclusive club and had suddenly become president. She passed other girls in the corridors and immediately wondered if they were part of the club as well. She grinned to herself, and coughed down a laugh that would surely make heads turn in confusion.

As she approached the doors of the Great Hall, she saw a petite brunette duck out with a muffin clutched in one hand a book bag in the other.

"Daphne," she waved over to the other girl. Hazel eyes popped up from the ground and a smile reached Daphne Greengrass's face.

"Morning Pansy. Are you just coming down?" Pansy hid a laugh.

"Um yeah. Late start I guess. Is there anything left?"

"Some breads and pastries – nothing to get your hopes up about. Hey would you mind if I borrowed that leather skirt of yours? You know the one. From the other weekend?"

"Of course. What do you need it for?" Pansy was a little surprised Daphne was asking to borrow clothes. The last time she had borrowed anything, not only was the dress embarrassingly large on her small frame, but Pansy had forgotten to wash it before hand and Daphne was teased relentlessly about the mysterious stain on the back (it was from sitting on a cheese Danish for Merlin's sake!). Anyway, Pansy was sure Daphne would never want to venture into her rather disastrous closet again.

"I have a date," the brunette whispered. Pansy's eyes widened and she made a large "O" with her mouth. Daphne giggled and smacked her on the arm. "Stop it's not a big thing. Don't go saying anything to anyone. But can I borrow the skirt? For tonight? Please?"

"Of course! It's on the left hand side of my trunk. I just washed it, promise," Daphne cocked an eyebrow and then snorted knowingly. She thanked Pansy quickly before walking off towards the library.

A date, huh? Pansy had never been on a date. Not a proper one at least. The closest she ever came was when Theodore Knott took her to see his older brother play a quidditch game in their backyard against his friends. The fact that he had asked her to go with him seemed like a good reason to assume it was a date. Maybe that was delusional. They were only seven, come to think of it.

On that thought, Pansy slipped into the Great Hall, largely empty at this point. She wandered over to the Slytherine table and picked up a pastry before sitting down in her usual spot. Barely two bites in when two familiar bodies swooped in beside her – one on either side.

"Pans, Blaise and I were talking and I think we need to get a few things straight." Draco got straight to the point – a first for him, she thought. She swallowed and then politely brushed her fingers against the napkin in her lap. Draco quickly grabbed her pastry and took a bite from it. She glared at him and he put it down before taking another bite.

"Given what happened last night we think it's best if we figure out a new schedule. One that makes more sense." Blaise straddled the bench and placed a large arm across the table, effectively cutting Pansy off from sneakily grabbing another bite to eat.

"Exactly. The problem is that this whole 'schedule thing' makes sense logically but not physically. Do you know what I mean? Like if I want to…catch up," he said demurely and with a smirk, "I'd have to wait until one of my days but what if I want to…catch up… right then and there? It just doesn't make any sense to keep a rigid calendar. I think Blaise's gross embarrassment last night should make that evident."

"Thanks you tosser," replied Blaise. "But it does make sense Pans. Draco and I can figure things out on a day to day basis and not bother you with it all. It will make it easier. More fun and spontaneous for you. For all of us. What do you think?"

"Yeah, what do you say Pans?" Draco and Blaise looked at her expectantly.

She was amazed they were asking her what her thoughts were. They both looked so innocent. Like they had just come up with a brilliant plan on how to steal a biscuit from the pantry. She almost laughed at their naiveté. Almost.

"I think you're both bastards and can get each other off for all I care," she stood to leave, making sure to reach over Blaise and grab another pastry. She quickly turned on her heel and began to march out of the Great Hall. For a fleeting moment she thought she was going to punch them both. But she wasn't angry. In fact, she was shocked by how un-angry she was. She just didn't care. She didn't have to anymore. She was a goddess among mere mortals – she had the power to satisfy herself and didn't need the blabbering idiots seated behind her.

She was in control.


	3. Payback

First chapter from Draco's POV. Hope you guys like it :)

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling

* * *

What the bloody hell just happened?

Draco watched as Pansy sauntered away from the Slytherine table without a glance back, his mind racing.

What the bloody _hell_ just _happened_?

He turned to Blaise, expecting an answer.

"What the bloody hell just happened?" Blaise scrunched his eyebrows and shrugged.

"I think she's angry with us," he stated sourly. Draco shook his head, as if trying to erase his confusion and think straight. She was fine a moment ago, even nodding her head with them as they discussed their brilliant plan to switch up the schedule (she was nodding her head, right?), and then she spits out that insult and leaves. Where did they go wrong?

"Women are bloody mad," he grumbled. Best not waste his time worrying about this. There was no way he would ever understand the inner workings of the female psyche. For all he knew she was on the rag and hormonal or something. Yes, that was probably right: _womanly problems._ "Well I'm heading back to the common room. Pansy will come to her senses later." He stood and looked down expectantly at Blaise, waiting for him to join.

"I'm going to go find out what's got her all upset," replied Blaise to Draco's silent demand. He stood and gave Draco a curt nod before following Pansy out the Great Hall. Draco watched his giant figure disappear beyond the door, snorting to himself at how sensitive Blaise was. Must come from his questionably close relationship with his mother. Not that it's wrong to have a relationship with your mum but the chap practically owled her on a daily basis. The thought of having to discuss his day to day with his mum made Draco gag. She'd probably hit him upside the head if she knew what he was doing.

For a moment he flashed back to the summer when he secured his mission. Maybe "secured" wasn't the right word. When he was _dealt_ his mission? When in it was _forced_ upon him? He shook his head again. These were thoughts he didn't want to think about. Not now. It was only October. A lot could happen between now and Christmas, when he'd have to report back to the Dark Lord. Let him enjoy the beautiful day. Maybe the last one he would ever see.

"Stop it," he growled to himself.

"Talking to yourself, Mr. Malfoy? That doesn't bode well for your sanity" Professor Snape loomed over him. He turned his head to make eye contact with the newly appointed DADA professor. His mentor. His assumed protector. His least favorite person.

"Snape." He all but hissed out the word. No doubt the nosy professor would soon inquire about the progress of his mission. Leave it to Snape to play the nagging mother figure when his own mum was beyond contact. "My sanity is perfectly intact. Nothing to warrant any of your _concern_." He almost laughed. The thought of Snape concerned with him was laughable. He was only concerned with his own skin.

"Excellent," he held Draco's gaze for a moment as if debating whether to continue the conversation. Draco hoped he would leave. No such luck. "I expect you in my classroom tomorrow morning for your weekly tutoring. I'm anxious to hear of your progress with your assignment." Draco almost rolled his eyes. They were practically the only people in the Great Hall and yet Snape insisted on this charade of tutoring sessions. As if he needed to be tutored. In Defense Against the Dark Arts of all subjects. The thought was laughable. Draco wanted to laugh.

He hadn't laughed in a long time.

The thought hit him suddenly. Why was that relevant? He pushed it aside and gave Snape a nod, preferring not to expend any more of his energy on the oily professor before him. He rose and walked past the professor in a contained hurry.

As he wound his way around the castle, slowly making the trip back to the Slytherine common room, his mind wandered back to Pansy.

Ah Pansy.

The girl was a real piece of work. He felt himself harden a bit as he recalled the evening prior. Her, nearly naked beneath him. Small tits and soft skin. That's how he always thought of Pansy: small tits and soft skin. She was particularly breathy last night. Particularly soft and amenable. If it hadn't been for Blaise he would have easily had her.

He fought back the urge to snarl. Fucking Blaise. The bloke's timing was truly impeccable. Leave it to him to come barging in on their night, drunk and in a fit of unwarranted jealousy. Typical Blaise. Always the romantic. Always feeling the need to go off and rescue the girl. Never mind that the girl was the one who had arranged the whole thing to begin with. His thoughts quickly took him back to that lonely night in the Slytherine common room, only a few days after returning to the castle.

"You're both mad if you think I'd sleep with either of you," Pansy said, a hiccup easily betraying her intolerance to the whiskey before the trio.

" _You're_ mad for not taking the agreement! We're talking one night, just the three of us, one last hurrah so to speak," laughed Draco. Pansy was a brilliant shade of pink. He didn't think it was just from the alcohol.

"Is this some gay fantasy of yours?" she giggled. "Do you actually just want to get with Blaise and are using me as a way to do so _heterosexually_ "

Draco and Blaise both snorted, as if choreographed. "Don't misunderstand Pansy – the idea of a three way is appealing to us both in ways that go well beyond the mere players present."

Pansy stared back at him, her confusion evident. "Meaning what, exactly? Must you _always_ speak in riddles Draco?" He laughed at her slur.

"Meaning that a threesome is much more than just sex. It's about power. It's about being in control," he said in his best bravado.

"It means one more thing to cross off his 'to do list'" laughed Blaise. Pansy joined in the jest and Draco had to punch Blaise in the arm before he shut up. The tosser was going to blow their only chance.

"It's not just that. Pansy, listen," she was starting to sway, the liquor catching up with her. "If we don't do this, you'll regret it for the rest of your life. How often are the two most eligible and _heterosexual_ (Pansy snickered) males in this bloody school offering to give you pleasures untold for an entire night?" Pansy looked at him and made to open her mouth, but he cut her off. "I know you want to. Don't pretend like you don't."

She grew quiet. Blaise lounged in the overly plush loveseat across from where Draco and Pansy sat on the sofa. He looked close to passing out. Pansy's eyes went between him and Blaise, and back again.

Merlin, please say yes.

He felt desperate in that moment. He wanted her. He needed her and this was the only way she'd say yes. He couldn't do the romance bit. He couldn't bear to think about wasting weeks, possibly months, wooing her and potentially getting nowhere before the Dark Lord finished him off. He didn't have time to waste. If he was going to die he certainly wasn't going to die a virgin.

And Pansy wasn't a bad choice to help him. She had changed over the years. She'd grown into herself. Sure the small tits were still there but he noticed her more and more every year. She'd cut her hair shorter over the summer and he was stunned by how sharp her cheek bones were. Was that even something that he should be admiring? But there you have it: Pansy had killer cheek bones. And those eyes. Merlin those eyes held everything Draco craved.

He felt a pang in his chest. He may never see her again after this year. And she had no idea. None of them did. This could be his last year and the friends he had made in this sodding castle may not know that until it was too late. Even if he succeeded in his mission they probably wouldn't see him again. Draco wasn't stupid – he was going to die no matter the outcome. The best he could do was protect his mother and his family's name. And maybe get laid in the meantime.

Pansy bit her lip, still considering the offer. Draco all but jumped her then and there.

"I have a counter proposal," she whispered. She giggled a bit and tried to swallow it back. The liquor had clearly gotten to her.

"I'm all ears," cooed Draco.

"The three of us. But not for one night. Ongoing. And not all together." Classic Pansy – straight to the point.

"You mean date?" asked Blaise. Her offer had gotten his attention.

"No. I mean I get you for a couple of nights," she stared at Blaise and then swept her saucy gaze towards Draco, "and then you for a couple of nights." She turned pink. Draco grinned. That was almost a better idea than his. Almost.

"I still want to do the threesome," he stated.

"Of course you do, you're a pervert. I don't want to see your junk," replied Blaise. He looked over to Pansy, a smirk on his face, "done. I'll take your offer. But I want Saturdays and Sundays."

"What? That's ridiculous. What do I get – Tuesdays and Wednesdays? I want Saturdays," argued Draco. Maybe the liquor was affecting him as well. He sounded like a spoiled brat. Pansy laughed. Blaise cocked an eyebrow. Smug bastard.

"Blaise gets me Saturday and Sunday and Draco, you can have me Thursday and Friday. I need a few nights to myself to make sure I don't fail out this year," she laughed again. She had the most distinctive laugh. Like a small pig or something. He couldn't put his finger on it. It was obnoxiously adorable.

"Deal."

"Wait," questioned Draco, "what do you mean when you say we can have you? Are we talking all the way or what?" Pansy blushed again. She shrugged her shoulders. "Good enough for me: deal."

"Alright deal. Shall we drink to it?" Pansy asked.

The three lifted their whiskey glasses into the air and gulped down large sips. Blaise burped and Pansy giggled. Draco rolled his eyes.

"So since it's Sunday, does that mean I can join you tonight?" asked Blaise. More giggles from Pansy. Merlin the girl was more pissed than his mother at Christmas last year.

"Let's start with Draco on Thursday. Plus, I'm too pissed to be even remotely attractive or attentive."

"You're always attractive, Pans," mumbled Blaise. Draco rolled his eyes again. Bloody hell be more obvious.

Draco found himself in front of the dungeon gate and quickly shook off the memory of the trio's drunken deal. It had stuck alright. Though Draco had still to have Pansy. He could thank Blaise for that one.

He pulled open the heavy gate and made his way inside. Pansy was curled up on the sofa, reading a Potions book. Blaise was nowhere to be seen. Their talk must not have ended well. He figured as much. Blaise may have the looks to get whomever he desired but he didn't know shit about dealing with women. They had to come to you.

With that in mind, he sauntered over to a nearby desk and took out his Transfiguration textbook. Waiting for Pansy to approach him. To her credit she lasted all of three minutes.

"You were a complete ass this morning. And last night for that matter," she hissed at him. What the hell? She was supposed to be apologizing for her outburst, not continuing to call him names.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. You were an ass. You _are_ an ass. And you know what, I don't need you. The deal is off." She made to storm away. Blaise must have really mucked this one up. Draco reached out and just barely missed her arm. He got up, begrudgingly, and followed her towards the 6th year dormitories.

"Pans, slow down. What's gotten into you? Is this a womanly problem?" She spun around, her eyes wide. He saw her raise her hand to smack him and just barely missed her wicked backhand. He'd had enough experiences with those third year when he paraded around the common room with her gigantic knickers. For whatever reason she hadn't found it funny.

"You complete and utter _ass_. Do you have any respect for me? Any at all?" she was practically yelling at him. What was going on? Was there something in the water? Where was the soft spoken girl he was used to? Why was she being so difficult?

"Of course I do Pansy. What the bloody hell is going on? And keep your voice down."

"I will _not_ ," she yelled. "How _dare_ you. How _dare_ you try to control me!" The woman was bonkers. And he was getting sick of this crass scene, quickly.

"Pansy, if you don't calm down I will make you." Remarks like that were always effective on him when he was throwing a tantrum as a child. He expected she would apologize promptly. Instead she just glared at him. Oh she was upset. Why was she upset? How as he an ass?

"I don't want to talk to you right now Draco. I'm so fed up with how you and Blaise treat me. You don't _ever_ listen to me and you clearly don't respect me. The deal is off." She stormed into her room and slammed the door shut. Oh very mature. Two could play at that game.

"We'll see about that Parkinson," he yelled through the door. "Two can play at this game. If you think you're the one in control of this situation you are sorely mistaken. This is a two way street. You can't just end something without talking to me and yelling doesn't count!" It was quiet on the other side but he knew she could hear him. Fine. If she wanted to hurt him, he could hurt her too. "You're not the only girl in Slytherine who wants to be with me," he hissed through the door. "And though you may have been the easiest to get on top of, you're certainly not special because of it." There. Serves her right.

He stormed off towards the common room determined to make his point. He just needed to find the right girl. The right pawn. He'd show Pansy. That would knock her down a peg. He didn't need her. He _never_ needed her. Anyone could do.

He scanned the room and his eyes fell upon a petite brunette sitting in the corner, scribbling away like mad on a long scroll of parchment. Perfect. He strode up to her and leaned against the side of her desk, not even looking at her.

"Daphne, go out with me tonight."

He could see out of his periphery that she was startled by his presence. Or maybe it was the demand. Either way she was caught off guard.

"What?"

"I said 'go out with me tonight'."

She tucked her hair behind her ear. It was a nervous tick of hers. He remembered it when she had asked him to the Yule ball their fourth year. He'd gone with Pansy.

"I uh, I can't. I already have a date." He looked towards her, a little shocked that she was rejecting him. Didn't she have a massive crush on him? Those were Millicent's words. But he'd seen her staring at him. He wasn't an idiot.

"With whom?"

"Cormac McLaggen" He rolled his eyes.

"Ditch him. He's a cheap date. Go out with me tonight," he leaned down towards her and flashed her a smile. "I promise I'll make it worth your while." She all but melted. He was in.

"Oh, um, okay. That would be nice. Sure. I'll go out with you." She smiled up at him and he smiled back.

Easy. Pansy would be sorry. Payback was a bitch.


	4. Priorities

Disclaimer: All characters and all things Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling.

What a bloody waste of an evening.

Draco kicked the side of the archway as he made his way in from the quiet grounds on an otherwise idyllic October evening. He swore under his breath as his toe throbbed from the contact with stone. The pain at least temporarily distracted from the memories of only moments ago; but just as quickly they came flooding back.

He was lying on top of Daphne. With one hand holding her head firmly against his he balanced on his other forearm on top of the blanket they had set up. She was a decent snogger—a little wet and heavy on the teeth but that could be overlooked by the enthusiasm with which she eagerly devoured him. A few times he had to pull back and suck in a few breaths of air—the girl was going to suck his face off if he wasn't careful.

They'd been going at it for about ten minutes, Draco estimated. His stamina was starting to wane and he was getting increasingly annoyed with the number of times his mind wandered away from the willing girl below him to the temperamental bitch he'd left behind in the Slytherin dorms.

Where did Pansy get off telling him what he could and couldn't do? Of course he respected her! Why couldn't she respect his need to get laid?

He ripped his attention away from Pansy and back on Daphne. Merlin was she grabby. That was the third time she had tried to slip her hands down his trousers! He shimmied away a bit and grabbed her hand so that he could maintain control.

"Draco," Daphne finally broke away, "what is going on?"

"Huh? What are you talking about?" He mumbled as he halfheartedly kissed down her jawline to her neck.

"Draco!" She pushed against his chest and sat up straight, turning her head to look down at him. Her short brown hair looked like she'd just had a good turn on a broomstick. He snickered at the thought. "Where are you right now? Do you even want to be here?"

"Of course I do," he snapped. Of course he did! Why wouldn't he want to be with Daphne? She was practically throwing herself at him. He could easily lose his virginity tonight and then finally get over this bothersome obsession with being buried deep inside Pansy. "You're overthinking things. Come back down here." He went to push her shoulders back on the ground but she simply shrugged off his hand.

"I don't think I am. I don't think you want to be here. Am I not good enough for you? Is that it? Would you rather be with Pansy?"

"What? No, of course—"

"Or Blaise?"

"What?!" Draco looked up at Daphne with wide eyes and quickly sat up to face her. "What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I'm not daft, Draco. I see the way you look at them—"

" _Her_. You see the way I look at _her_. I don't look at Blaise like that, I—"

"Well I just figured that maybe I wasn't good enough for you because I couldn't give you what Blaise could—"

"Oh Merlin, this is unbelievable. This is just…it's just…you _are_ daft." He started to unbutton his trousers, determined to prove to Daphne that he was certainly not thinking about Blaise. "Fine. Let's go. I'll show you. I'm not thinking about Blaise. Or Pansy. I just want to get this stupid thing over with and go on with my bloody life without having to think about being a bloody virgin."

She giggled.

Well, more like snorted. Either way it stopped Draco in his tracks. He slowly looked up at her and saw the faintest of smiles starting to spread across her face. She snorted again.

"What?" he snapped.

Her smile grew but as it did her normally gentle hazel eyes glittered with mischief and malice.

"You're a virgin?" She almost couldn't ask him the thought was so absurd!

He froze. Had he said that? Oh Merlin, had he actually just said that to her?

"What? No I'm not. Who told you that?"

"You just did."

"Oh, well, it was just to…uh…" he looked around frantically trying to find some sort of excuse to save his pride.

"It's just that I'm surprised. You couldn't even get Pansy to help you out in that?" She was starting to laugh. She was pitying him. She was mocking him. Draco was seeing red.

"Go to hell Greengrass. You're a horrible snogger and your tits aren't even the same size," he stood up before she had a chance to respond and stormed off towards the castle.

Draco shook off the memory as he wandered down the hallways, back to the Slytherin dorms. Where the bloody hell did Greengrass come off thinking he was itching to be with Blaise? And why the bloody hell did she _laugh_ at him when she found out he was a virgin? What was so wrong with that?

He paused to consider that perhaps she was not as innocent as he had expected. Who the bloody hell would have shagged Greengrass? Knott maybe? A Hufflepuff?

As he contemplated his predicament as perhaps the last Slytherin virgin, he almost ran head on into a gaggle of giggling girls. Their shrieks of surprise quickly brought him out of his thoughts and back to the reality of the situation.

He estimated it was just past nine. The final remains of students left in Great Hall would be filtering out now, heading back to the dorms to get a head start on studying or causing mischief—depending on the House of course. As he drifted further and further away from the main hallways and closer to the dungeons, his attention was suddenly caught by a familiar, whispered voice around the corner.

"—you aren't thinking _rationally_ Harry! This stalking has got to end!" It was that mudblood Granger. Draco quietly approached the corner and sunk down the cold stone wall. He snuck a quick glance around the corner and immediately saw Granger's bush of a hairstyle facing those two nitwits she insisted on dragging around: Potty and Weasel. Just what he needed right now—this bloody Golden Trio. He removed his wand and considered a few jinxes until he heard his name.

"He's up to something Hermione. I know Malfoy is up to something," hissed Potter. Draco's attention quickly shifted and he pressed closer to the corner so as to hear better.

"No, you don't Harry! It's been _months_ and he hasn't done anything out of the ordinary. You have to drop this obsession. Or go to Dumbledore if you really think something is going on."

"Ron, tell her what we saw the other day. Tell her about the map." The map? What map?

"Mate, just because Malfoy snuck off to Hogsmead doesn't mean he's plotting with He-Who-Must-"

"Oh for goodness sake's Ronald, just say his name!"

"It _does_ prove he's up to something! I just know it!"

"Harry, even if Malfoy were plotting something nefarious, do you honestly believe he wouldn't be caught by one of the professors?" asked Hermione.

"Yeah mate. Or he'd probably muck it up himself—he's a stupid little git isn't he? Like father, like son aye? Draco isn't a threat to anyone except the poor first years." The Weasel laughed and Draco could hear him slapping Potter's back in jest.

"Maybe you're both right. Maybe Malfoy isn't a threat," conceded Potter.

"Exactly. Now let's get back up to the Common Room. I heard Lavender is putting together—" Their voices slowly faded into the dark hallway as the trio walked away from Draco's hiding spot and towards—he imagined—the Gryffindor dorms.

Draco was so overcome by rage he could barely move.

Minutes passed and still he sat against the wall of the deserted Hogwarts hallway. He had loosely wrapped his arms around his legs, with his chin resting on his knees, his steely eyes staring forward. Unblinking. Unflinching.

After the initial waves of rage had subsided and the desire to hunt down the Weasel and torture him until he could barely remember his own name calmed, a pang of shame struck Draco in the heart.

He was a failure. And he hated himself because of it.

He rubbed his left forearm, wishing away the bruised mark that hid just below a concealment charm. He wished his life were different: that he'd never come to Hogwarts, never been sorted into Slytherin, never met Potter and his gang of dimwits, never watched his father dragged away to Azkaban. He wished he could melt into the stone floor of the hallway and disappear from it all.

The rage began to swell again.

Wishing away his life wasn't going to solve anything. It certainly wasn't going to accomplish this mission. He had failed because he hadn't even tried. He'd been distracted. He had welcomed the distractions. Anything to avoid thinking about the desperate look on his father's face when the dementors dragged him away from the Manor last spring; or the repulsed look on his mother's face when she realized Draco would bear the heavy Malfoy mantle; or the amused look on his Lord's serpentine face when he bequeathed this impossible mission. He had, or would fail them all. And it would cost him his life. His mother's life. His name.

The guilt began to trickle in slowly.

He had refused help from his mother, his aunt, and Snape again and again. His pride—his bloody, unfounded pride!—had gotten in the way time and time again. His mother, cold as she could be, didn't deserve to watch her husband dragged away or her life snatched away because of the failures of her spoiled child. He was the cause of all this. His distractions, his pride, his reluctance to accept this mission for what it truly was: a death warrant. One that would most certainly include his death but might spare his mother's.

A flicker of determination.

He wouldn't fail. He couldn't. It wasn't an option anymore. He didn't care anymore about his own life. It was a waste, after all. Pansy had been right—he didn't respect her. He didn't respect Blaise either. Or any of his classmates for that matter. He didn't care about any of them. He never had.

But he did care about her.

He couldn't let her down. Not after everything she had endured, for him.

Draco rose from the floor, feeling his body protest at the sudden movement and effort. The glimmer of hope that he could melt into the floor evaporated. He started down the hallway making his way back to the Slytherin dorms. He would take that rage, shame, guilt, and determination and he would apply it.

His priorities were set. He would kill Albus Dumbledore.


	5. Opportunity

Disclaimer: All characters and the Harry Potter universe belong to JK Rowling.

A/N: Only one more chapter to go and then Menage is complete! As always, reviews are both wonderful and inspiring. Enjoy :)

It was a rare night when he wasn't thinking about her.

Her soft white skin. The way her body always responded to his touch—inching closer to his as if seeking out his heat, his contact. And those eyes. Merlin, those eyes: when she laughed and when she yelled bloody murder they lit up, completely hypnotizing him.

Sometimes he thought about shagging her. Well, often he thought about shagging her. Not so much about the ways he would but just focusing on what it would feel like. How she would react. He liked to imagine her breath catching. Maybe she would moan his name. He always pictured her going soft around him, a departure from her normally energetic demeanor.

Other times he thought about holding her. He wasn't ashamed to admit that just the thought of wrapping his body around her petite frame filled him with a desire that rivaled even the most lecherous of his fantasies. He craved that feeling of control and power over her. Of knowing that nothing could touch her so long as he was wrapped around her— and that she could not escape him.

He smirked as he recalled when these fantasies first made themselves known. He had always had a soft spot for Pansy—ever since they were kids, collecting flowers for her or even playing along with her inane tea party games—but something changed last summer.

There was no big reveal, to be sure. Pansy hadn't suddenly grown tits overnight and he hadn't just experienced his first bought of puberty. The feelings just suddenly emerged: one moment she was his childhood crush and the next she was the centerfold in every wet dream. When he thought hard enough, he could almost remember the moment he no longer saw her as just a crush.

He had been in Italy most of the summer, vising relatives and searching for cursed objects—his mother's hobby, as she called it. They had only just returned and right on time for one of society's many events that drew his mother and her friends like flies to honey. He had agreed to escort his mother to the event. Draco would call him a wanker for heeding his mother's beck and call but he didn't expect Draco to understand their relationship. It was complicated, to say the least, but suffice to say Blaise had learned from an early age to be useful rather than replaceable. He had chosen a charcoal suit and deep, blood red tie for the event. It had been one of his few purchases while in Italy. He didn't like to draw attention to himself—though his large build didn't help him in that regard—but for whatever reason he was feeling particularly debonair that night.

The event had been a drag. He spent most of the night leaned up against a far wall, watching his mother navigate through the throngs of men and women eager to speak with her. She had a way of commanding attention. It was another reason he always chose to hang back and observe. Men, in particular, always seemed drawn to her. She encouraged them. His previous step fathers had certainly been encouraged. Watching his mother was like watching a dancer in her element: she had control not only over her body but also in the way it molded and manipulated the space around it. Her warm brown eyes connecting, then pulling away, and then drawing others in. He had seen countless men—and women even—fall prey to her allure, to her spell. It was almost hypnotic.

He was fascinated with his mother's power over others. How could he not be? It terrified and excited him. Since he was a child he had been eager to learn. And she taught him—not explicitly, but the lessons were there if he observed. He was content to observe.

"If you continue to stare at your mum any longer the Ministry is going to have her imprisoned on suspicion of encouraging an Oedipus complex."

"Hello Draco. I would say it's nice to see you but we both know that would be a lie," he turned to his best friend and gave a knowing smile.

"Zabini, do you ever put that charm to rest?"

"Only when your mother asks me to."

"So it's not only your mother then. It must be a fetish I suppose."

Blaise snickered. Though he wouldn't admit it, he was glad to see Draco at this event. He was starting to get bored but with Draco at his side he knew he could continue on for another hour or so. However long it took his mother to feel adequately reacquainted into British society.

He snuck a glance over at Draco. Black dress robes. Classic but boring. He resisted making a snide comment when he noticed the end of a white bandage peeking out from under his left sleeve.

"Mind your sleeve, mate," he commented softly. Draco glanced down and expertly tucked in the bandage before straightening his robes. He wasn't surprised. He had always known Draco would join the Death Eaters—whether by his own volition or otherwise. A part of him had hoped it would wait until after their graduation but he had heard whisperings that tensions were rising within the community. And with the recent arrest of his father, it didn't seem out of the ordinary for Draco to step up and claim what he believed was his duty.

In this way, Blaise was fortunate. He had never known his father. And his mother was not one to dwell on the past or on a name. They were free agents—though some whispered that they were traitors. That their refusal to pick a side, to see black and white, made them untrustworthy. He thought it made them practical. Cautious even. He trusted his mother's instincts when it came to uncovering the grey in a situation and he would not be so easily swayed to one side or another without proof that one side outweighed the other. By their calculations, such proof had yet to manifest.

"Have you seen Pansy?" asked Draco, breaking the silence between the two.

"I didn't know she was coming, why?" He normally wasn't one to pry but his feelings for Pansy—how ever boyish they may be—outweighed his traditional manner.

"No reason. I just figured you had an eye on her." He heard the suggestion in Draco's tone but he didn't give an inch. It wasn't in the nature of their friendship to divulge feelings without heavy sarcasm or wit. And Blaise rarely felt inclined to put on his usual performance when the topic strayed to Pansy.

As if sensing their shared desire to see her, a mess of blonde hair broke through the crowd and sauntered over to them. She was dressed in white, a color that washed out much of her features but somehow accentuated the red and blotchy undertones that seemed to be Pansy's classic look. Blaise smirked at that thought.

"Well look who graced us all with her presence," cooed Draco. He extended a hand and quickly brought her fragile hand to his lips. Blaise watched with interest as Pansy's light blue eyes locked with Draco's. She blushed. That was interesting.

"Cut the crap Draco, you know as well as I do that I'm only hear to avoid having to hear all about it from mother tomorrow. At least this way she'll leave me the fuck alone," snickered Pansy. Blaise watched as each curse out of Pansy's mouth made Draco's smirk widen. That was also interesting.

"Well then for the sake of taking advantage of a droll night, dance with me." Still grasping her hand, and before Pansy could even acknowledge Blaise's presence, Draco led her towards the dance floor where couples were already swaying along to the quartet. He watched while Draco placed Pansy's hand on his shoulder and then how he snaked his own around her slim waist. Pansy was smiling now, laughing quietly at something Draco had whispered in her ear. Her white gown moved effortlessly with her hips as Draco led her around the dance floor. She was a bit clumsy on her feet but he kept her movements in line with his.

Blaise felt his chest tighten when he watched him dip her, her blonde waves tumbling away from her bare shoulders, exposing taught skin stretched across small collar bones. He felt his palms warm when he saw Draco's hand dip precariously low on Pansy's back only to see her hand gently lift it back up to its proper place. He could practically hear her lightly scolding him. He felt his gaze focus in on her when she twirled and for the briefest moment their eyes met across the room. His breath hitched.

That was the moment. That was the moment fantasies of Pansy locked in his embrace—sometimes moaning in pleasure and other times nestled, asleep, against his chest—took over his waking dreams.

Blaise slowly returned from the memory, savoring that moment as he lay half naked on his bed in the 6th year Slytherin boy's dorm. He was tempted to slip into the shower and beat one out as his thoughts lingered on Pansy in that white gown, but he resisted in favor of simply enjoying the peace and quiet of his dorm.

It was rare that he had the room to himself. Normally Theo was in here studying or Draco was barging in with a foul mood close behind him.

And, as if summoned, the door to the dorm flung open and in strolled a brooding Draco Malfoy. Blaise stilled, watching the blonde's journey towards his side of the dorm, taking note of his mood and behavior as he walked. Something was off. The brooding less dramatic—even less vocal—than normal. As in all situations where Blaise did not see a clear win or lose, he waited. Hesitant to be the first one to act.

Finally, Draco glanced over to Blaise and caught his eye.

"Figures you'd be lurking in here."

"Well I do sleep here."

"Yeah," mumbled Draco, "'spose so. Have you got a spare quill on you?" Blaise slowly sat up from his reclined position and reached over to his night stand. He selected a quill and walked over to Draco's side of the dorm, extending the quill as if avoiding physical contact with a defensive animal. "Thanks. I'll return it to you later."

"I saw Daphne earlier. She looked…bothered," Blaise hesitated to bring up Draco's date. From the looks of it, it hadn't gone well. But something urged him towards clarity.

"Fucking prude that one," sneered Draco. Blaise cocked an eyebrow, surprised to hear that about Daphne. He had overheard McLaggen bragging about a blow job just the other day outside the Potions classroom. But he didn't press the issue.

"Have you spoken to Pansy since breakfast?" He still cringed at the interaction he had had with her after she had stormed out of the Great Hall that morning. She may as well have sucker punched him. How could she think he didn't respect her?

"We may have exchanged some words." Draco moved over to his school bag, tossing in a few books as well as the quill Blaise had lent him. "She's a fucking prude as well. Should have known after last night."

Blaise bristled at the memory. He still felt like a complete arse for not only getting pissing drunk with Theo but then stumbling in on Pansy and Draco and then punching Draco. Not his finest moment. Certainly not one he wanted to remember or talk about with the other Slytherin. And yet, he couldn't resist when it came to Pansy.

"What do you mean?" He asked cautiously.

"She's a fucking tease that one," Blaise involuntarily formed fists at his side. "One minute she's all over me and the next I can't shake the feeling that she would rather be anywhere but under me. I'm sick of playing this game with her. Even after we made this whole agreement I can't seem to just get her to give it up already." Draco paced around the room, collecting more materials and shoving them into his book bag, clearly preparing for a long night of studying. Blaise watched him. A mixture of excitement and disgust bubbling to the surface. "I'm finished Blaise. I can't keep chasing that minx—or any of them for that matter."

Blaise blinked. That had taken an unexpected turn.

"What does that mean?"

"It means you can have her. I'm finished. I have…better…things to do with my time. I can't waste my time on this rubbish." Blaise was surprised to hear the venom in Draco's voice. Draco had always been drawn to a challenge, a chase. But something had changed. Something between this morning and this conversation. Blaise waited to learn more but Draco fell silent as he finished packing up his bag.

"Studying tonight?" Blaise finally interjected.

"Yeah, something like that," and with that, Draco left the room. A quiet descended over the room, leaving Blaise alone to contemplate this new situation.

Draco was out of the picture.

Draco wasn't going to chase after Pansy anymore. He wouldn't even be a distraction anymore.

Blaise quickly found himself pulling on a shirt and jumper, subconsciously deciding to find Pansy at once. He wasn't sure what would come next but something had shifted. Something had shifted in his favor.

He rushed down to the Common Room before he had fully formulated a plan. He just knew that now was his chance—at what he wasn't quite sure yet. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, looking out into the expanse of black leather arm chairs and worn Persian rugs that littered the floor of the Common Room, he was surprised to see a familiar head of disheveled blonde hair by the fireplace.

As he approached her, he noticed how perfectly still she sat. Looking into the fire. Lost in thought, he imagined. He took his time reaching her, not wanting to break the spell that had captivated her and held her in this beautiful stillness. She had replaced her coat from earlier with a heavy wool jumper. One that practically swallowed her petite frame. Even a passing thought about her delicate body beneath the oversized jumper renewed his earlier lust.

"Hey Pans," he said quietly as he sank down beside her. She was startled. He always seemed to startle her.

"Oh, hey." He heard a hiccup in her voice. He immediately took closer stock of the petite blonde: puffy eyes, blotchy cheeks, a used handkerchief balled up in her hand. His pulse quickened.

"What's wrong. Who did this," his inquisition had begun.

"Nothing's wrong. I'm just…just," he instinctively reached for the fat tear that rolled down her cheek. Her skin was soft, as always. He forced himself to remain focus.

"Pansy. Are you hurt?"

"What? Oh Merlin, no. I'm fine, really Blaise, it's nothing," she stood and turned away from him and the fire. He reached his hand out for hers before she had the chance to slink away, back up to the girl's dorm. His touch gave her pause and she glanced back down at him. Her blue eyes seemed to search his for answers to questions she still wasn't sure should be asked. He gazed back up at her, willing her to stay, trying to channel some ounce of power his mother seemed to have over the opposite sex. For all his observations he could never seem to master her talent for entrapment.

But slowly she sank back down to the couch and next to Blaise. Her eyes never left his. He was sure she could sense his pleas—and as pathetic as that made him feel it was outweighed by his gratitude that she would stay. That she might confide in him.

They sat there, huddled together in front of a dwindling fire in an abandoned Common Room, lost in their own thoughts and each other's eyes. Blaise lost track of time but sensed the importance of this moment. And he refused to back away.

Finally, Pansy spoke: "It's Draco." A pang in Blaise's chest, though he would bury it and show her he could be trusted. "But it's also me." He leaned in closer to her, his interest piqued. "I don't know what I'm doing anymore. I thought…I really _believed_ I had figured it out. I thought I had found control." Her voiced dropped off as she broke eye contact and placed her head on his chest, pulling her legs up to her own and curling up into a small mass beside him. His right arm instinctively wrapped around her, shielding her and helping her feel whole.

He brought his left hand around to stroke her hair. It was soft, just like he'd remembered it. He could feel the wet streaks on her cheek.

"I'm an idiot, a bloody idiot. I don't know why I ever thought he would change. I don't know why I keep doing this to myself. Why am I so daft, Blaise? Why can't I be strong? Why am I so…so… _weak_?" He squeezed her tighter, securing her to his large frame. She hiccupped as she cried. He had seen Pansy cry over Draco before, years earlier, after the Yule Ball. She'd caught him feeling up some 5th year Ravenclaw under the stairwell and nearly killed the poor trollop. Blaise had had to forcibly remove her from the scene. The entire trip down to the dungeons was filled with kicking and yelling and hysterical sobs emanating from the girl. You'd have thought a banshee was dying. But this was different. This was defeat and confusion and self-loathing. This was not a jealous rage. Blaise wasn't sure how to calm her down. Before he would just lock her in her room and wait outside her door until the sobs subsided and Pansy could be spoken to like an adult. But now? He would just remain silent. And he would hold her. He didn't have anywhere else to be, or anyone else to care for.

Minutes passed while Pansy quietly sobbed in Blaise's arms. She had slowly moved her legs out from under her and laid them across Blaise's lap. He had taken the opportunity to scoop them under his arms so that he could cradle her closer, keep her safer.

When finally the tears stopped and the hiccups faded, he felt her head shift to look up at him. He pulled his gaze away from the fire and met her watery eyes, red and puffy from the tears.

"I'm sorry about what I said to you earlier," she whispered.

"Apology accepted. I'm sorry if I ever made you feel disrespected or somehow less," he whispered. She granted him a small smile. He returned it in kind.

"I don't think I deserve you, Blaise," she said. She blushed. That was interesting.

"You're wrong," he replied. Without hesitating and potentially missing his opportunity, he moved his lips to hers allowing them to connect for the briefest moment. Her lips were soft. Bloody hell, everything about her was soft. But he held himself back, not wanting to take advantage of the situation but rather wanting her to feel his admiration for her.

He felt her smile before he saw it. One of those shy smiles she reserved only for moments of delighted surprise. He smiled back at her, smiled down at her beauty.

"Blaise?"

"Mmm?"

"I want you."

"Are you sure? You don't have to. I know that Draco must—"

"Yes, I'm sure."

He stood, still holding her in his arms, and walked away from the fireplace towards the far study room—the Armory. Students were rarely using the small study room on Saturday nights and he was confident it would be abandoned at this hour. He pushed open the heavy oak door and leaned against it as he gently placed Pansy on her bare feet. He turned away from her and removing his wand from his back pocket, murmured a quick spell to ensure privacy. When he turned back, he saw Pansy standing in front of the leather sofa lifting her wool sweater over her head.

His breath hitched. He had seen naked women before, had even slept with a couple. But seeing Pansy undressing before him did something to his nerves that the other women never had: he could hardly stand still and yet he felt glued to the floor. He watched with fascination as she next slipped her undershirt over her head and then carefully stepped out of her jeans. When she finally caught his eye, she smirked, knowing the power she had over him in an instant. His knees went weak.

She sat down on the couch, in only her knickers and simple white bra, and patted the space beside her. She flashed a quick smile, and laughed at her seduction attempts. But Blaise barely registered her self-deprecation. He was struggling to move one foot in front of the other, despite the open invitation. When Pansy registered his hesitation, she frowned. Small lines creasing the space between her brows. That was enough. Blaise slowly walked over to her never breaking eye contact. She tensed as he drew closer and he mirrored her apprehension.

He reached under his jumper and pulled it over his head, taking the t-shirt with it. He stood in front of Pansy, prepared to unbutton his trousers when her hand reached out to stop his.

"Let me," she whispered.

She would be the death of him.

Her deft hands unfastened the top button and then next came the slow decent of the zipper. Blaise thought he was going mad: he wanted to jump on top of her and ravage her but he couldn't seem to control his body. He stood perfectly still while she hooked her fingers through his belt loops and pushed down.

As with most days, Blaise had left briefs behind.

Pansy pushed his trousers down to his ankles and pulled him forward so that he could step out. She dropped her hands and sat back against the sofa, looking him over from top to bottom. He normally wasn't self-conscious but something about her stare had him on edge. She took her time looking him over. He wasn't sure what she was thinking and each time he tried to hold her gaze she restarted her journey back down. After a few moments, he could barely stand it any longer.

"Pans, you're killing me." Her gaze met his and he watched her smirk.

"I won't lie Blaise. I'm relishing this. This…this… _control_." The word released him from her spell. He reached out for her arm and dragged her to him, pulling her roughly against his naked body. He felt her shiver against him and his excitement doubled.

"Play nice, Pans. Share." He unclipped her bra and watched it fall off her shoulders as he sunk to his knees in front of her hips. He tugged lightly on her knickers, giving one last glance up at her to confirm her desire. She looked down at him hungrily. He pushed her knickers down in one clean sweep. He heard her gasp.

He lightly traced small designs up her calves, across her thighs, and around to her small, perfect ass. He placed gentle kisses on either side of her hips, relishing the small moans that escaped her as he did. He let his fingers move slowly up her arched back as he stood to face her. He caught her small breasts in his large hands and gave them a gentle, but firm squeeze before bringing her arms around his neck and entangling his hands in her messy hair.

"You're beautiful."

"I think that's my line," he smiled.

"You can copy it, I don't mind," she returned his smile.

"I'm going to kiss you now, Pansy. And then I'm going to lie you down on that couch and take you. It may hurt at first," his voice trailed off, unsure of how graphic he needed to get to help her understand. He didn't want her to think it would be roses and rainbows the entire time. It was important she know he wasn't intentionally causing her pain but that it would be inevitable.

She didn't respond at first, but instead rose on her tippy toes and brushed her lips across his. "I'm yours."

He smiled. Her gaze never left his as he lowered them both down to the couch and then settled between her legs. She never once stopped looking into his deep brown eyes, even through the pain, the awkwardness, and pleasure. She kept his gaze through it all. He was hypnotized.


End file.
